


save the party for me

by gendernoncompliant



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Silly, no i don't care how but it sure isn't whatever the heck canon did, pot brownies, troubles are over AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gendernoncompliant/pseuds/gendernoncompliant
Summary: Duke shakes his head with a laugh. “I don’t think he’s smoked since we were teenagers. Poor asshole’s shaking hands with god.”
Relationships: Duke Crocker/Audrey Parker/Nathan Wuornos
Comments: 27
Kudos: 43





	save the party for me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Brownie Incident](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786048) by [GreyHaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyHaven/pseuds/GreyHaven). 



> First of all, HUGE thank you to GreyHaven for giving me permission to write a spinoff of their fic, The Brownie Incident. You all should ABSOLUTELY go read that, it's a delight.  
> I just really wanted to take that idea and dial up the dosage on the edibles [because the idea of Nathan blazed out of his mind was absolutely hysterical to me, and because edibles are _deceptive as hell_ ]  
> I've tweaked the setup, but the premise is essentially the same: Duke has pot brownies, Nathan doesn't know they're pot brownies, chaos ensues.  
> This was supposed to be a silly little 1k max drabble but it got away from me a little lmao
> 
> *Title from the Grouplove song of the same name

Duke steps into the shower with a little more than an hour left before the time he set for their dinner date. (And he set the time for their dinner date knowing full well that Nathan and Audrey were more than likely to be a good half hour later than that. This far into their relationship, he’s gotten used to course-correcting for their chronic, workaholic tardiness issues.)

If Duke weren’t so used to the various creaks and groans of the Rouge, he might not even have noticed the sound of footsteps on the deck over the noise of the showerhead. As is, his suspicions are confirmed by the telltale metallic ring of someone descending the ladder.

“Audrey? Nathan?” He calls through the wall. “That better be you, ‘cause I am so not in the mood to fight off a home invader in the buff.”

“It’s me,” Nathan shouts back. After a moment, he peeks his head in the door of the bathroom and teases, “But if you wanna run around naked I’m not gonna stop you.”

Duke laughs in spite of himself, leaning around the curtain to flick a face-full of water at Nathan. “You’re a pest,” he tells him, tugging the curtain back into place definitively.

Nathan disappears with a singsong, “Offer still stands!” And Duke vows to take his sweet time getting ready. After all, Nathan shouldn’t even _be_ here, yet.

Duke finishes getting ready and doesn’t spare a single thought to the tray of brownies in the refrigerator because _why would he_? Afterall it’s not as if he’s known Nathan his whole life and has firsthand experience over just how much trouble that babyface of his can get into on a given day.

Yeah, in retrospect, he should have seen this coming.

In his defense, Nathan _was_ unfashionably early. And nosy.

-

Everything seems fine when Duke steps out of his bedroom, hair pulled back, beard trimmed, shirt ironed—all the things he _would_ have had done before anyone so much as stepped foot on his boat, if Nathan had any respect for the laws of time and space.

It’s not until he opens the fridge to start prepping the vegetables for dinner that he spots the rumpled plastic wrap.

“Nathan,” Duke says, voice slow and measured, “Please tell me you haven’t been in the refrigerator.”

“It was a quality check,” Nathan counters, a shameless grin on his face. “Had to make sure dessert wasn’t poisoned.”

Sighing, Duke closes the fridge and turns to level Nathan with an exasperated glare. “Yeah, that wasn’t dessert. How many did you eat?”

Nathan offers a one shouldered shrug. “A couple.”

Duke doesn’t miss the deflection. Crossing his arms, he pushes, “Two?”

Nathan breaks into a sheepish smile when he quietly confesses, “Four?”

Duke’s jaw actually drops. “You didn’t,” he says.

Rolling his eyes, Nathan makes a face at him. “I didn’t even put a dent in them! It’s fine.”

“Nathan. They’re pot brownies.” Duke tries his level best to insert some amount of gravity into his tone, but the longer he thinks about it, the funnier it gets. “You just ate a metric fuckton of weed.”

Nathan waves him off, puffing a sound of disbelief. “Yeah right. I feel fine.”

Duke chuckles, dragging a hand over his face. With a shake of his head, he promises, “You won’t.”

About half an hour later, from his place on the couch, Nathan whispers a muffled, “Oh no.”

(Duke makes sure to text Audrey, _dinner may be a little weirder than expected_. _maybe a lot weirder._

A minute or two later, she responds with, **you know what, I’m not gonna ask. surprise me.** )

Duke has to abandon chopping vegetables when he spots Nathan’s wide-eyed, unfocused expression. He crosses to the couch, crouching down beside him.

“Hey, Nate, you good?” He doesn’t mean to laugh, he really doesn’t, but he can’t quite keep the grin off his face. “It hit, huh?”

Nathan doesn’t look at him, just stares up at the ceiling and mumbles, “I feel like I’m made of menthol.”

Duke covers his laugh but not quite fast enough. Nathan either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Good feeling?” He asks, carding his fingers through Nathan’s hair.

“I guess?”

Unable to hide his fondness, he ruffles Nathan’s hair before levering himself to his feet. “Tell me if it turns into a bad feeling, okay? Just. Try to relax.”

Nathan makes a sound that passes for agreement and Duke returns to chopping onions. He makes the mistake of thinking that maybe they’ve settled into a moment of quiet when Nathan lurches upright with a jolt.

“I CAN FEEL,” he announces to the empty room.

“You sure can, buddy,” Duke tells him, voice cheerful and calm. “For about six months now, remember?”

Nathan loses his momentum, shocked into an awed quiet when he mumbles, “Oh yeah,” and settles back down.

Things take a turn for the worse just before Audrey gets there. She walks in on Nathan face down on the floor and Duke cross-legged beside him, rubbing his back.

“My lungs are in the wrong place,” Nathan urges, voice muffled by the floor.

Duke casts Audrey a look that he hopes says _give me a second and I’ll explain_ as he patiently says, “They’re not, you’re fine.”

“I’m dying,” Nathan drones. “Actually, I think I’m already dead.”

Duke bites down on his smile and pats Nathan’s back. “I promise you aren’t dead.”

“I’m going to die.” All things considered, Nathan sounds fairly at peace with the whole thing—monotone and unaffected—but Duke can tell by his hurried, shallow breathing that he’s pushing down the kind of panic that must feel overwhelming given the amount of THC in his body.

He rubs small circles across Nathan’s shoulders, trying to give him a new physical sensation to focus on. “Can you try breathing? For me?”

“I can’t, my lungs are in my mouth.” Nathan turns his head, looking absolutely pathetic with one cheek smushed into the rug. “People do this for _fun_?”

“Nate,” Duke sigh, his voice bright with a smile as he shakes his head, “Nobody eats _four_ pot brownies for fun.”

Audrey raises her eyebrows. “Pot brownies, huh?” She asks, arms crossed. “Way to start the party without me.”

Nathan groans, thunking his forehead against the floor once and then twice for good measure. (And then a third time, probably because he’s decided he likes the sound.)

“Blame Nathan,” Duke says, “He went snooping while I was in the shower.”

“The floor is moving,” Nathan whines.

“That’s ‘cause you’re on a boat, big guy.”

“That sucks.” He lifts barely half an inch off the floor, sounding genuinely surprised when he says, “Oh look, Parker’s here.”

Confident that Nathan has rediscovered at least some amount of—albeit miserable—calm, Duke pushes himself back to his feet. “Hang tight for me, okay? Don’t go anywhere.” He brushes off his palms and crosses to Audrey, pressing a kiss to her temple before returning to the kitchen to wash his hands and continue his attempts at dinner.

She follows close behind him. “Is four a lot?”

“I’d have probably started him with half.”

“Half of four?”

“Half of _one_.” Duke shakes his head with a laugh. “I don’t think he’s smoked since we were teenagers. Poor asshole’s shaking hands with god.”

“I told you I’m dying,” Nathan calls from the living room.

“You aren’t,” Duke reassures him in the patient, relaxed way of a man who’s had to talk more than one idiot through a bad trip. “Focus on breathing, I’ll be back as soon as I’ve got this in the oven.” He turns an amused if exasperated look on Audrey. “Can you watch him? I just need, like, fifteen minutes.”

She rolls her eyes and takes the opportunity to steal a slice of carrot off his cutting board. “Yeah, I’ll babysit the boyfriend,” she teases.

“Thank you,” Duke whispers, tipping forward into a kiss before returning to chopping. Audrey smacks his ass on her way out of the room.

“Far as I’m concerned, this is still your fault,” she says over her shoulder.

He can’t see Nathan’s place on the floor from his spot in the kitchen, but he hears the laughter in Audrey’s voice when she asks, “Hey, tiger, think you can stand up for me?” And the petulance in Nathan’s when he grumbles, “No.”

“Yes, you can,” she tells him before, presumably, helping him off the rug.

Just as Duke starts searing the steaks, he hears Nathan’s almost sullen, “Feels like somebody put—birds in my chest.”

“Birds?” Audrey asks. She makes no attempt to hide her amusement and Duke loves her for it.

He can hear Nathan’s frown, even if he can’t see it from this angle.

“Fluttery,” Nathan explains.

Duke’s getting ready to move the cast iron to the oven when Audrey wanders back into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. “How’s he doing?”

Audrey shakes her head with an exasperated smile. “He’s looking at me but I kinda get the feeling he’s looking _through_ me.”

“In his defense, he’s in outer space right now.” Duke casts her a warm smile, teasing, “Besides, you’re pretty unbelievable sober so, I can’t really blame him. You’re probably blowing his mind.”

Audrey smacks his arm and he dissolves into laughter. “Flirting will not get you out of trouble,” she tells him, even if she can’t stop smiling long enough to make it sound threatening.

“Nathan’s sweet tooth is _not_ my fault,” Duke laughs, but he’s interrupted when she catches him by the collar of his shirt and drags him into a kiss that’s closer to filthy than it isn’t.

“You ironed your shirt,” she points out, sounding impressed.

He lays his hands over hers, bringing her palm to his mouth to kiss it before letting them go. “I,” he singsongs, “was planning on having a nice evening.”

From the other room, Nathan groans, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Audrey pats his chest with an exasperated laugh. “Yeah,” she sighs. “So much for that.”

Duke hands her a wooden spoon and says, “Can you just make sure the onions don’t burn while I carry stoney-baloney over there to the bathroom?”

Casting a doubtful look at the sauté pan, she drones a skeptical, “I’ll try.”

As he heads for the living room, he says, “Just stir it sometimes,” only to duck back in and add a stern, “But not all the time. A little stirring.”

Audrey rolls her eyes and gestures in Nathan’s direction with the spoon. “Please go get him before he makes a mess.”

Nathan, as it turns out, didn’t need to puke. He was, however, deeply unhelpful through the entire process of dragging him into the bathroom. Sat down on the floor in front of the toilet, he seems to have found his second wind.

“Not gonna lie, I expected the floor to be grosser than this,” Nathan babbles thoughtlessly. He drags his fingers along the tile.

Duke quirks an eyebrow at him, shoving him gently only to have to drag him back upright when Nathan doesn’t seem to have a full grasp of his own equilibrium. “Gee thanks, buddy.”

“Don’t call me buddy.”

Duke laughs. He settles on the floor next to Nathan, shoulder to shoulder in the small space, and leans his head against the wall. “How are the birds?” He asks conversationally.

It takes a second for Nathan’s brain to catch up. When it does, he narrows his eyes and rubs a hand over his chest. “Quiet. I think. Quieter.” He thunks his head rhythmically against the wall behind him until Duke shoves his hand into the line of fire.

Motioning for the door, Duke says, “If you’re not gonna yartz, then can we please stumble back into the part of the boat that doesn’t smell like toilet bowl cleaner?”

“Smells like your shampoo,” Nathan counters, in a moment of casual honesty Duke doubts he’d be so glib about sober. “I like your shampoo. I bought some but it smells better on you.” he continues. After a moment of quiet, his face screws up unhappily. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Sure did.” Duke claps him on the shoulder before levering himself to his feet and extending a hand down to Nathan. “You know, I could perfume some letters for you, get Audrey to seal them with a lipstick print, appeal to your Victorian sensibilities.”

Nathan stumbles on his feet and leans heavily into Duke’s side. “You talk too much,” he grumbles, cheek mushed against Duke’s shoulder.

Once they maneuver around the corner, Duke can already taste the souring tang of burnt oil in the back of his mouth. Audrey stands in the center of the kitchen, looking somehow both remorseful and self-righteous all at once.

“I don’t know what happened!” She blurts.

“I was gone for five minutes!” Duke leans Nathan up against the sink for safekeeping before crossing the rest of the kitchen to inspect the damage. The onions are certainly singed, but he might be able to lean into it, call it charred, and salvage the thing.

What really catches his eye is the dark smudge of something that looks suspiciously like chocolate right at he corner of Audrey’s mouth.

He leans against the counter and clicks his teeth. “Too distracted going through my fridge to stir the onions, huh?”

Her hand flies to her mouth in an altogether guilty and futile attempt to hide the evidence. “What? _Me_? No…”

Nodding, Duke extends a hand palm up and she drops the wooden spoon into it. “At least tell me you didn’t eat four of them. I cannot babysit both of you.”

“Half of one, I promise.” She beams up at him, and for a second it feels like looking straight into the sun.

“You know,” Duke laughs, shaking his head, “Tonight might work out after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points if you can figure out which of Nathan's lines I said with my stupid, human mouth the first time I smoked weed. Leave your guesses in a comment lol


End file.
